Carl W. Kenney II is an award winning columnist and novelist. He is committed to engaging readers into a meaningful discussion related to matters that impact faith and society. He grapples with pondering the impact faith has on public space while seeking to understand how public space both hinders and enhances the walk of faith.

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Black men need love too

[I took this picture three weeks after the death of Mike Brown in Ferguson, MO. It's used here to remember the life and witness of men and women who have died, and the women who lead movements that seek justice. I celebrate these women, and advocate for inclusion of women in spaces controlled by black, male leadership]

This is no pity party.

This is not a deflection.

This is not an attempt to negate the amazing work of black
women.

But, can the brothers get some love?

There’s an uncomfortable feeling oozing in my belly. For months,
it’s been easy for me to dismiss the angst in my gut to things stirred by my
own messy ways. I’m certain part of it is because of wounds I opened from words
and actions that facilitated the movement of hands on hips, wagging fingers and
talk about “no you didn’t!”

I own my own complicity in making it complicated and
unsettling for some to hug it out. Anyone with a tidbit of common sense knows
there’s tremendous pain rooted in a long history of silence and indifference,
but something unsettling is happening that forces new talk about black men.

My conclusion comes after spending months talking to black
men about how they feel. The consensus among many is, well, it’s different now.
The evidence of change is not proof that the stuff in the gut is a bad thing. Feeling
isolated and attacked is often the consequence of the need for an old school
butt whipping to help you get your act together.

Maybe this is what we need.

This is that collective ruthless confrontation that will
forever be known for shifting power dynamics. Nope. Women ain’t playing
anymore, and anyone who doesn’t know that better ask somebody.

It is true that black men have selfishly clutched power from
black women with the type of neglect that battles what white people have done to
subjugate black people. Be it in the leadership of the church, other
institutions or the abuse and manipulation in relationships – black men deserve
this whipping.

This is not about asking black women to back off. This is
not a repudiation of the legitimacy of the need for justice and inclusion.

The brothers need some love too.

The truth is, black women have always fought for their men.
Their fight for incarcerated men, and brothers unjustly stopped by police, goes
back to days long before the end of slavery. They fight on behalf of their sons,
and other black boys in the neighborhood, grappling to find a way. This is not
a criticism. This is not a plea demanding more.

Because we need you. We know the burden on your backs. We
are aware that we placed some of it there. We failed to listen. We used
religion to control your movement. We followed the teachings of the white man’s
Jesus to demand your submission. We rejected the teachings of our ancestors and
made ourselves into gods with the power to rule without questions.

Still, brothers need love too.

Part of that involves the need for forgiveness. In many
cases we don’t deserve your forgiveness. We deserve your rejection. The stiff
unwavering hand in our face is a tribute to your strength. Like Celie clutching
that knife against Mister’s neck, “everything you think about is gonna crumble.”

We feel the crumbling. We hear it in each word aimed at exposing
our coldness. We merit your reproof. You are not wrong.

Black men are hurting.

We can’t fix the mistakes made by our fathers and
grandfathers. We’ve read the words of Alice Walker and other great thinkers who
are “sick and tired of being sick and tired”. Knowing the truth does not stop
the pain. Some of it belongs to us. Some of it is stuff we didn’t create.

They did it, but our male privilege makes us guilty of their
mistakes.

Black women, can you see the tears of black men? Has your
rage enthused an apathy that we will never overcome? If so, we understand, but
know we need you still. We always have, we always will.

Without you, the emptiness remains. Our heart beats slower as
our will to survive wanes without you. Our mental health degrades as we seek
ways to overcome. Our dreams move beyond deferment into no more than a thought
from yesteryears. Our feet move slower and all we see are days fading into an
inescapable midnight.

There is no joy without you.

Brothers need love too.

We have no night to request anything from you. The bond in
our blood may not be enough to dismiss your fury. The innumerable recollections
of venomous words and insulting deeds may be too much to defeat. It may be too
late for you to note the poring of our tears. We deserve the loneliness generated
by your rejection. We are living in a space wearied by feet planted in
confusion. Your incapacity to trust or words leaves us motionless with no hope
of conquering what we created.

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Carl W. Kenney II

Carl was named the best serious columnist of 2011 by the North Carolina Press Association for his work with the News & Observer's community paper The Durham News and in 2016 by the Missouri Press Association for his columns in the Columbia Missourian. He is a columnist with the News & Observer and Co-Executive Producer of "God of the Oppressed" an upcoming documentary film on black liberation theology. He is a former Adjunct Professor at the University of Missouri - School of Journalism and Adjunct Instructor at Duke University, the Center for Documentary Studies. He received his Bachelor’s degree in Journalism from the University of Missouri-Columbia. He furthered his education at Duke University and attained a Master of Divinity. He was named a Fellow in Pastoral Leadership Development at the Princeton Theological Seminary on May 14, 2005. He is a freelance writer with his commentary appearing in The Washington Post, Religious News Services,The Independent Weekly and The Durham Herald-Sun. Carl is the author of two novels: “Preacha’ Man” and the sequel “Backslide”.
He has led congregations in Missouri and North Carolina